


As Careful and Precise as Our Fate

by slamncram (GettheSalt)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Anniversary, Gift Fic, Grant has a fixation with Leo's hands, He can't really be blamed, M/M, Self-Acceptance, pansexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 21:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10522653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GettheSalt/pseuds/slamncram
Summary: When Grant thinks back on what Leo's hands did the first time they met, he can't entirely believe that those same hands are in his, a gold band shining on one.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Because I can, I wrote Steph giftfic for our anniversary. We have a [Domesticverse](http://slamncram.tumblr.com/tagged/domestic!fitzwardverse) for Fitzward that we’ve been building since about January of 2014, and that continues to grow. I wanted to write something in that verse, because it’s the original, and the one that started everything off. Our Homebase-AU, if you will.
> 
> So, without further ado...

When Grant first met Leo, one of the first things the other did was take the communicator unit from his hands. That was, probably, the first time Grant noticed them.

Leo was – _is –_ an engineer. He worked with his hands. It was what he did, and because of it, his hands were skilled, controlled and careful. There was no difference in the skill and care that they used in taking the communicator from him or in smashing it, perhaps only the level of force. If he hadn’t been so thrown off by the sight of this slight, Scottish Sci-Ops agent destroying his brand-new equipment – while his lab partner forcibly swabbed his mouth – he might have taken the time to notice the elegance of those hands then.

Of course, they do always say that hindsight is 20/20.

That was the first time that they’d met. Grant had heard of Leo. Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons. Two of the youngest graduates of SHIELD Academy to date, brilliant minds, and a duo to be reckoned with. In the early days, Grant was assured that the reckoning would only come in the form of extreme annoyance. The two of them could be freaky, in a Doublemint Twins kind of way, now and then. That didn’t account for the way they went into the field; she, bright-eyed and ready, he with a level of trepidation and uncertainty that seemed wise until it got in the way of _Grant_ doing his job.

Grant specifically remembered being in Peru, and glaring at Leo while he barely managed not to tear his hair out with those hands, calling Grant ‘mad’ for expediting the removal of an 084 in the middle of a firefight. He remembered, later that day, glancing behind him to see those same hands gripping thankfully to a post in their barely saved Mobile Command Center, blue eyes hidden behind lids closed in an expression of bone-deep relief.

It was after that mission in Peru that Grant started to reassess his idea of Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons.

How could he not? They really _were_ brilliant, and brave, in their own ways. There was no way to deny how drawn in he was, how lured by the two of them. What had started as grudging acceptance soon turned to actual fondness.

And in his bunk, the night after the South Ossetia mission, that fondness, for one of them, turned to something more.

Maybe Grant had never really looked at himself that deep. There was always something to occupy his time, and the default setting had always seemed the easier path to follow. It didn’t change that when Leo’s hands curled in the front of his t-shirt, and then pulled him into a hug, fingers spread against his shoulder blade, he didn’t understand what that heavier, deeper feeling was. All he had known, at the time, was that he wanted to chase it. He _needed_ to chase it. There was something about it that was so addictive, so attractive, and he couldn’t let it go. He wouldn’t.

Their team had been pulled back to New York. Coulson was needed more there, as the Avengers’ Liaison, and it was time that Earth’s Mightiest knew the truth. They had all accepted it, in turn. Leaving the Bus behind, but having left her desk job first, May was free to fly agents of all levels and divisions all over the globe for missions. She would go dark for weeks at a time, only to resurface, usually along with a brigade of agents telling stories that only added to her legend.

Not that she ever encouraged them. Grant was sure that he’d heard more agents told off than thanked for their praise.

Basing the team in New York, in the new, more public SHIELD headquarters, was a big move for a lot of them. Jemma and Leo went back to their jobs as Sci-Ops agents, and Grant was kept as a Specialist in the city, helping to deal with the spike in individuals hell-bent on disturbing the carefully held together peace that had fallen in the wake of the Battle of New York. Skye, with her newly minted SHIELD trainee badge, continued learning how to be a field operative, while putting to use her skills with computers. Her wildly impressive skills, as it would turn out.

Life had changed, but it had also stayed the same, in some ways.

For Grant, that feeling that had settled in his chest the night that Leo had hugged him and restated that he’d meant every word he’d said in that warehouse in South Ossetia, had stayed. It hadn’t weakened, or dissipated, had not given a single indication that it might, someday, go away. It wouldn’t have been so bad, if it hadn’t scared him. If he hadn’t been in the middle of briefing a superior over the phone about a severed hand left with a local, SHIELD-connected musician, and heard Skye ask if he’d talked to Leo recently, and immediately tuned out his superior, keen on news about the engineer. If he hadn’t felt inexplicably drawn to the Scot, any time he gave the slightest indication that he _might_ be open to Grant’s company.

The two of them were alone on Valentine’s Day, with a free evening, and Skye and Jemma having a ‘girl’s night’ that both of them knew wasn’t nearly as uncomplicated as it seemed. There seemed nothing complicated about what they did, either, but, when Grant looked back on it now, he wondered if that was the first time he’d really asked Leo on a date.

That, or the night he invited him to his apartment for a meal cooked entirely by Grant himself.

Or the night Leo had invited him over to allow Grant to truly introduce him to _Game of Thrones_.

That night was the catalyst for nearly everything that Grant should have seen coming since South Ossetia. That night, when he’d stood in Leo’s bathroom, and stared at his own reflection, he’d truly grasped something about himself for the first time, and the reality of it had been terrifying. It had turned everything slightly sideways, given it all a light and tilt that it hadn’t had before. It hadn’t been _bad_ , but it had been _different_ , and while Grant was adaptable to change, the sheer scale of it, and of what he was realizing about himself, had been a lot to take.

That was one of the times that it had been damn good to have Skye around. She hadn’t been willing to pull the punches when it came to reminding him that, despite what some could hope, sexuality was fairly fluid. She hadn’t coddled him when he’d told her how being with Leo made him feel; there had been no hesitation when she’d stated that Grant’s fondness for him went beyond the brotherly affection he had for herself and Jemma.

And armed with that, more at peace with that heavy feeling in his chest, Grant had felt more ready to tackle what stood before him. Namely, Leo Fitz, and every little thing about him that drove Grant crazy.

That, of course, had been approximately when Madam Masque had made her move.

Hell-bent on getting a rise out of the most notable Avenger in the ranks, she’d snatched up an unassuming SHIELD agent, and when she was done, Leo was in a hospital bed, with a thankfully _not_ broken jaw, and angry red welts on his arms, chest, and those skilled, beautiful hands. Leo had woken up in a hospital bed, and those hands had clung to Grant, begging him not to leave, not to go, and Grant, who hadn’t planned on it, had stayed.

It hadn’t taken much more to break down Grant’s flimsy hesitation.

He still remembered the feeling of those hands – barely healed from the attack – pulling him in, holding him close while they kissed. He remembered lacing his fingers with Leo’s, and smiling at him in a bed Leo had barely fit into an alcove in his little apartment. He remembered Leo’s hands rubbing against his hair, and the sound of his laugh, when he’d managed to bang his head against those closed-in walls the first time they’d made love.

They hadn’t lasted long for SHIELD, after that. New York was getting more and more dangerous every day, but more and more people were cropping up with powers and abilities that far outdid anything that Grant could do with a gun when it came to super-villains. After what had happened with Madam Masque, neither of them were keen to keep playing bait – or human shield – for people with grudges, focused on getting to the Avengers. Before the incident with Masque, Grant’s own run-in, with his old partner, had left him with a dislocated collarbone. The two of them had seen enough of each other in hospital beds.

And they had something, now.

There was a lot to protect, working with SHIELD. It was important, and it was good, selfless work. The issue that came up was that they had things to feel selfish about, now.

Each other.

The idea of losing one another, after what they had come through, after the realization Grant had finally opened himself up to, was beyond consideration.

They had been standing in the wind atop of Eiffel Tower, on a well-earned vacation, when Leo had held out his hand, and proposed the idea. They had a wealth of experience between them, and SHIELD paid well. Very few agents left through retirement. Many less than the number that left through body bags.

Taking Leo’s hand, Grant had agreed.

They weren’t going to add to the total of those who left in the usual way.

Settling down with a house and a dog in Washington state had never once been something that Grant had expected to find in his future. He had expected more of the same; firefights, espionage, missions in deep cover in foreign countries.

He hadn’t expected early mornings, kissing Leo awake and leaving him to get his bearings, only to have two curious hands announce his presence in the shower minutes later. He hadn’t expected nights sharing popcorn bowls and talking about their days. He hadn’t counted on goodbye kisses in the morning while Leo pinned on his NASA badge, and hello kisses at night when Grant hung up his FBI jacket. There had been no plan for weekends spent on hours-long hikes with the dog.

The domestic life had not once been something that he’d expected he would suit, or that he would get. SHIELD didn’t have much of an allowance for it, and there was nothing in his life but SHIELD.

But that, really, had been before that morning on the Bus, when Leo had taken his communicator from him, and those skilled, practiced, careful hands had smashed it to pieces, much like Grant’s resistance to what Skye and Jemma insisted was fate.

Grant’s fate had been sealed long before those hands did other things.

He’d been caught in its clutches long before Leo’s hands had pulled him into that calming, sweet hug in his bunk. Long before he’d lifted his beer bottle against Grant’s in the steakhouse on Valentine’s day.

Fate had a hold on Grant months before Leo laid in a hospital bed, his injured hand curled around Grant’s sleeve, keeping him there. Its claws had been in him for a long time before Grant had kissed the dull red spot on Leo’s palm, gentle and more loving than their _platonic_ feelings had been able to account for.

Grant had been unarguably been fate’s plaything before they’d shared their first desperate kiss in an elevator, before they’d messed up Leo’s bed and probably bothered his neighbours. Before Leo had climbed into his lap in the middle of a play-off hockey game and distracted him until Grant took him to bed, bolstered by his team’s victory, but eager to give Leo what he’d wanted for the entire last period.

Grant had gladly given himself over to fate months before he’d spread Leo out on the bed in _their_ new home, and undone him careful and slow. Fate had owned him for a very, very long time by the time Grant had lost count of how _many_ times he’d felt Leo’s fingers carding through his hair before tensing and pulling when he arched and whimpered ‘ _don’t stop, don’t you dare stop now_ ’.

There was no doubt in Grant’s mind that he and Leo were both prizes of fate the evening he’d been down on one knee in the sand at sunset, sliding a ring onto Leo’s finger, and feeling the warmth and surety of Leo’s ‘ _yes_ ’ burrowing deep in his soul.

It that had never bothered him. He had never been able to see the future. He wasn’t gifted in that way, but he’d always maintained that he knew some things were meant to be.

Watching the gold wink at him from Leo’s left hand as they laced their fingers together and stood in the moonlight at the edge of their backyard, he knew that this was one of them.

“What are you thinking about?” Leo asked, moving in to settle against his chest, breathing him in. It was late. They’d gotten home from the restaurant a long time ago, but the warm night had brought them out here, talking, sharing kisses, and sharing smiles, for nearly an hour.

“Not much.” Grant answered, smiling and running his thumb over Leo’s. “Mostly about how you’ve changed my life. For the better, obviously.”

Leo snorted, pulling back to look up at him. “I should certainly _hope_ for the better.”

“Mm.” Grant turned Leo’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the thick gold band on his third finger. “I’m pretty sure it’s for the better.” Pulling his gaze away from Leo’s hand and the ring that matched his own, he looked down, returning the soft, warm smile Leo was giving him, and feeling that warm, heavy feeling in his chest.

He knew its name, now. He had known for a while. Before they’d ever left New York.

It was love.

“Happy anniversary.”


End file.
